


Maybe

by MournfulSeverity



Series: International Wizarding School Championship Fics [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apologies, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23644447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MournfulSeverity/pseuds/MournfulSeverity
Summary: With Lord Voldemort’s defeat came heartbreak and so much loss, sorrows and never-ending strings of “maybes”. Draco thought that was it, thought himself destined to live with his regrets. But maybe the end of the war also brought second chances, new beginnings, and a chance to say he was sorry.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: International Wizarding School Championship Fics [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616080
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing
> 
> IWSC required info found at the bottom.

..

The forest seemed to come alive around him, what leaves remained on the trees singing him a whisper of song told on the back of an autumn breeze. Draco sighed into it, into the magic that ensnared him. On any other day, any other year, it had all seemed so ordinary, but this… things hadn't been the same since the war ended.

He ran his hand along the smooth, black bone that comprised the thestral's spine. This, too, was different. They hadn't been there in the years before, their presence always invisible, but like everything else, spilled blood had changed this. He'd seen the light drain from so many eyes, seen it choked or even burned away. He'd caught the moans of death on the tail end of a spell, felt the trickle of it across his soul.

The dark side — _his side —_ had encountered just as much loss, just as much heartbreak. They'd had just as many bodies to bury as the light, and Draco had known them, had _loved_ them. His friends had joined him, joined their parents, their aunts, and uncles among the Dark Lord's ranks. Draco couldn't pretend that he had just as many attachments to the light, not when he remembered so vividly which side of the war he had fought on.

That loss pained him perhaps even more than the deaths. It was a loss that brought him out to the uneven ground of the Forbidden Forest, to the only place in Hogwarts, the only place in the world beyond it where he didn't feel so different, so broken.

His fingers lingered on the soft leather of the thestral's wings, so fragile beneath his fingers, knowing that this animal, too, understood.

The sound of splintering wood and soft footsteps behind him paused his movements, but he didn't turn, there so little in this place to fear.

The noise drew closer, the quiet shuffle of trainers on long ago fallen leaves, the distant familiarity of a murmured "hello."

Draco turned.

Hermione stood a ways behind him. She was close enough that he could see her warm breath blossoming in the chilled fall air, but far enough that he couldn't reach out to touch her. They stood instead in the shape of regret, in guilt and wrongful accusations that had been molded into the shape of them for they were little else.

"Granger," Draco responded with a nod, a tightening of his lips that if he had been asked he would have said was a smile. He'd spent his life being hateful, being prejudiced, being a downright twat.

"You come to the forest a lot, don't you?" She stepped beside him, reaching out and brushing the tips of her fingers against the Thestral's muzzle. It gave a huff of contentment.

"I do," he agreed, his voice a slow drawl of hesitation.

"I've seen you come this way, after classes," she explained. "It's weird being back, isn't it?"

Draco stared at her, the brown-haired girl that had once offered him such confusing pangs of his heart. The girl who owed him nothing and to which he owed a thousand and one apologies.

"I wouldn't call it weird…" He began, his voice trailing in thought. "Excruciating seems more fitting, giving the situation. Hermione nodded and he knew he didn't need to expand; that she was quite possibly the only person in this castle who understood. She was one of the few, like him, who had returned for her 8th year. One of the few who had fought in the frontlines of the war, much closer than even he.

He heard her shift beside him and he looked towards her, catching her gaze, the butterbeer shade of her eyes that made him feel drunk. Lost for words.

"The things in here — this forest — don't seem so scary, do they? Not when —"

"When what we've faced is so much worse?" Draco cut through, his voice undulating with bitter laughter. "Yeah," he continued, suddenly sober. "If given a choice again, I'd take the beasts inside than…" His words trailed again, he couldn't bring himself to utter the darkest things they had both learned so well.

Hermione turned away, saying nothing, but she didn't have to for him to know that she didn't agree. And he understood why. Maybe if he had been on the light, fighting against the kind of person he had become, he would have felt the same way.

Silence encompassed them once more and it was somehow less unwelcoming than it had been before, the edges of it sharp and painful when she was his company.

Draco heaved a breath, stealing away any strength that was held in the air around him. Merlin knew he needed it. His eyes drifted to the sky, the splotches of blue just visible between the branches of trees and the golden leaves that clung there.

"I'm sorry." The words that came from him were unfamiliar, cold and unwelcome against his tongue, but he felt the chill that had permeated his heart began to warm. "For… for-"

"I know." Her words were curt, not giving in to his forgiveness or accepting his apology and his words shuddered to a stop in his throat; it would never matter what he said.

"But that's not enough." She turned to face him again, her hand reaching out to rest on his. "Maybe one day it will be, but for now...I need to heal, I need to forget, and then maybe…"

Maybe. It was more than he expected, more than he deserved, and he accepted it with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Story Title/Link: Maybe  
> School and Year: Ilvermorny, year 3  
> Technique: Em dashes, hyphens, semicolons  
> Prompt: Forbidden Forest  
> Word count: 938 (10% leeway)  
> Summary: With Lord Voldemort’s defeat came heartbreak and so much loss, sorrows and never-ending strings of “maybes”. Draco thought that was it, thought himself destined to live with his regrets. But maybe the end of the war also brought second chances, new beginnings, and a chance to say he was sorry.


End file.
